


Wrong Number

by Accident, Lucille_Waters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk Texting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 19:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accident/pseuds/Accident, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucille_Waters/pseuds/Lucille_Waters
Summary: Greg sends a text to the wrong number. Is it the start of something more?





	Wrong Number

Greg had been having a rough time at work recently and so some of his mates had offered to take him to the pub. While there he had a few too many drinks and sent a message to who he thought was a friend who couldn't make it.  
[Sent to the wrong number] God, he radiates elegant sexual dominance. I bet even his balls have pinstripes. -GL

Mycroft rolled over in bed, his eyes adjusting to the light from the screen of his phone. Recognizing the number as Greg Lestrades his mind began to buzz. For the only time that man ever messaged him was when something was wrong with his brother. He couldn’t help but smile at the message that he had been sent. Clearly it was a mistake, but he was going to play this man for all he was worth.  
**Anatomically impossible, Inspector. Though I am sure the subject of your message would be flattered to hear it. -MH**

**I don’t care about anatomically correct. All I want is his anatomy inside me.—GL**  
Greg hiccups as he sends the text, finally looking at the contact. “Oh hell.” He giggles and sips his pint.

Mycroft could feel his face flush a little as he sat himself up in bed. He never expected a response that quickly, least of all a text with such graphic wording. He knew he should just stop, act like nothing had ever happened, but he was getting far too curious for his own good.  
**People want a lot of things, Gregory. It doesn’t always mean that they will get them. It also doesn’t mean that they won’t. Life is about risk, and is the risk of looking the fool worth it? -MH**

Greg waves goodbye to his mates as the last of them leave. He sits back in his booth, slowly nursing his drink as he reads the text.  
**Oh he’s worth any risk. He’s worth all of them and more. He’s just so posh and gorgeous I don’t think he’d ever go for a mess of a bloke like me. Besides I don’t even think he has feelings like that.—GL**

Rolling over onto his side, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Greg. Sorry for the fact that he had made the other feel that he couldn’t share his true feelings. Mycroft had never really given his sexual side any thoughts as he felt that they were as unnecessary waste of time. But the more he thought about it, the more curious he became.  
**Come now, detective. Why must you sound so defeatist when it comes to this mystery man? Though he does sound like the complete opposite to yourself, you know what they say. Opposites attract. Have you tried speaking to him about how you feel? -MH**

Greg blushes and downs his pint, ordering another.  
**I haven’t but I don’t want to ruin things between me and him. It’s good. Really good. He’s brilliant and witty and a great listener. I don’t want to lose that by letting these feelings get in the way. I’d rather keep him as a friend than lose him. I’ll just keep it a fantasy for now. It’s fine. I’ll just dream of pinstripes forever.—GL**  
He sighs and sips his new pint, feeling a bit sad but pleasantly buzzed.

Mycroft lay there, nervously beginning to chew on his fingernails. How had he been so blind to Greg’s feeling all this time. He was supposed to be the smart one, but now he just felt plain dumb.  
**You’re making this man sound absolutely perfect, and if he’s as wonderful and perfect as you’re making out he is then I’m sure he will understand. If not then he clearly isn’t worth it. -MH**  
He sent, and then paused, even more curious than before.  
**Though...why don’t you tell me more about this pinstripe fantasy of yours. -MH**

Greg chuckles softly and hums, wondering Mycroft being so smart and observant is still in the dark. He honestly believes Mycroft doesn’t know it’s him.  
**Well the other problem with just telling him is because I’m afraid to frankly. I’m afraid he’ll be disgusted with me for these feelings. I’m afraid he’ll cut me out of his life. Most of all I’m afraid he wants me too..—GL**  
He hums and licks his lips.  
**Mm well he’s posh. So very posh. And he wears these three piece suits. And I just want to feel all that fabric presses against me. I want to peel layer after layer off him slowly. I want to unwrap him like the delicious gift he is. Sometimes I want to unwrap him. Other times I want him to strip me and fuck me while he’s still dressed. Feeling that expensive fabric against my sink as he fills me deep.—GL**  
Greg blushes and shifts a bit, getting excited.

Mycroft was shocked, playing in his mind how it would all play out if Greg was actually doing to him the things he was speaking about in his message. The truth was, it was genuinely starting to turn him on. A feeling that he hadn’t felt in many years.  
**So do you think that these suits that this man seems to wear so well would look equally as good on your bedroom floor? Perhaps he would prefer those perfectly pressed suits to become wrinkled. -MH**

Greg licks his lips and goes to pay his tab, putting on his coat as he heads out to catch a cab. He looks as his phone as he’s driven to his tiny little flat.  
**I know they’d look perfect on him or the floor. I’d wrinkle him and them perfectly. He’d be such a mess after I was done with him. But really who am I kidding. I don’t think I could ever be done with him.—GL**

Mycroft gave in internal moan at that last message, his mind buzzing with everything Greg wanted to do to him. The more he thought about it, the more he began to think it would be a wonderful idea. But there was something he wanted from Greg first. He needed the man to admit to who he was talking about. He wanted to hear that man say his name...and then perhaps when the time was right he’d hear him groan his name.  
**You’ve been rather open and honest with me tonight about everything you want to do to this mysterious man in pinstripes. Yet you are yet to tell me his name. Surely you aren’t going to deprive me of that. Are you? -MH**

Greg pays the cabbie and stumbles into his flat, taking off his shoes and coat. He strips down to his pants before crawling into bed. He blinks slowly as his eyelids were heavy, looking at his phone.  
**Honestly I’ve probably had a bit to much to drink tonight. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I never want to make you uncomfortable. I want other things with you. So many things. After all, you’re my pinstripes man, aren’t you?—GL**  
Greg tried to stay awake, wanting to know what Mycroft says but he’s just so exhausted from work and being up for almost three days straight from a case. He sends the text against his better judgment, blaming his sleep deprived brain as he finally passes out from exhaustion and alcohol.

This was exactly what Mycroft had been expecting, yet somehow actually seeing the detective inspector admit it to him still took him by surprise. While he knew exactly what he wished to respond to the other with, he somehow couldn’t put his thoughts down in text. He hadn’t been made to feel uncomfortable at all. Yet there was something deep down that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  
**I’m your pinstripe man, am I? Well then...I’m not your pinstriped man right now as I’m in bed and wearing absolutely nothing. Have a pleasant nights sleep Gregory and get back to me in the morning if you wish to continue our conversation. If not I look forward to seeing you at our next appointment regarding my bothersome brother. -MH**


End file.
